London to Walton-on-the Naze and Harwich - 3/4/5 or 6th August
- Thread starter dellzeqq
- Start date
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pull up a chair........
I met ILB at Brixton at seven in the morning. We set off northwards. A car hit my handlebars before we'd gone a quarter of a mile. No harm was done, but I sensed a slight stiffening of the youthful sinews...
And so we went through the Oval, through the Elephant and Castle, up Borough High Street, over Tower Bridge, turned right at Aldgate and swung along the Mile End Road, under the aerial park, through the Stratford whatever (the Olympic Stadium is looking impressive) and out through Ilford and Romford. All in measured time, all at a decent pace. Up Harold Hill and in to Brentwood, out past Shenfield and on to Mountnessing, where we turned right and headed across country to Stock. Here we went, a little to his surprise, to see a glazing detail on an old people's home. He was entertained by phone call from the Babe, presently in Knoxville Tennessee, sufficiently not to mind my disquisition on untreated light American oak, and enjoyed the snaking roads past Stock's magnificent windmill, down to the Hanningfields, Bicknacre and in to Maldon where we stopped for refreshments. So far, so efficient. I put in a call to the Brightlingsea Ferry, and, re-assured, we went north east, after a bit of wibbly direction finding from yours truly, scorching along the B roads to East Mersea, and on to the island.
Farm machinery is on the move in Essex. Big Dutch stuff, as wide as a two lane road, preceded by pickups with flashing orange lights. We waited for them to pass, and went on, on to smaller roads, a smaller road still, a gravel path, and then grassland...
At this point one sensed a certain doubt in his mind. Grass gave way to shingle, and half a mile of shingle brought us to a spit of land projecting out in to the Colne estuary, on which we sat for an hour, letting the rain beat against our waterproofs.
The ferry hove in to view. I'll admit I didn't recognise it at first, thinking that it was a bit of motorised flotsam, or even jetsam, but, on closer inspection, two words came to mind. The first was 'bath'. And the second was 'tub'.
Twelve passengers, two crew and two bicycles took their place on this motorised bath tub, and it made its way across the mouth of the estuary. There was pitching. There was yawing. Above all there was the matter of scale. The bath tub and those in it, were, by comparison with the sea, a little on the teenytiny side. Fortunately ILB is not familiar with the Wreck of the Medusa, but I was sizing up my shipmates, and, seeing a collection of five abundantly fleshy Essex girls, had decided that supper would not be a problem.
We, and our bathtub survived. ILB and I carried our bikes across the sand spit of Clear Point and rode through and out of a vast holiday camp, before pushing north to Clapton, Frinton and Walton. Weighty names, but Frinton was as light as a feather, genteel beyond measure, a sort of temperance playground for the god-fearing holiday maker. Walton was almost as refined - a byzantine dome here, a Weymouth frontage there, and, in the middle of it all, Pink's Hairdressing Salon, formerly Liszt's Bakery, where the Babe's father had been sent after the death of his parents. I took my picture, and we got on the little train to Colchester....
Disaster. My card was 'declined'. ILB offered his own, doubtless thinking 'he takes me to an old people's home, strands me on a wet beach, tries to drown me in a bath tub, and now he wants me to pay for his railway fare'. But, hold hard. The machine wasn't having it 'you want me to do what, honey - you can kiss my candied EPOS ass!' it said, as ILB's card was spat out at quite a rate.
Our kindly train guard took pity on us, and allowed us to travel ticketless to Colchester. I called Barclays, who offered their assurance that all was well, as indeed it was when the machine on Colchester's finest railway platform produced a bunch of tenners so crisp they might have been starched by Carmelite nuns. And relax...on to a Liverpool Street train, and then by bike through Brixton, where I took him down Atlantic Road, home to fishy smells and Desmond's Hip City. We parted in West Dulwich, he to go another thirteen miles or more to Orpington, me to go over the hill to Streatham Hill, to further menace the Kid with promises of bin-liners if her room is not spotless tomorrow night.
A good day. The weather sort of held, we just about got home, and, most important of all, some lovely roads. Essex, the most underestimated of counties, didn't disappoint.
I met ILB at Brixton at seven in the morning. We set off northwards. A car hit my handlebars before we'd gone a quarter of a mile. No harm was done, but I sensed a slight stiffening of the youthful sinews...
And so we went through the Oval, through the Elephant and Castle, up Borough High Street, over Tower Bridge, turned right at Aldgate and swung along the Mile End Road, under the aerial park, through the Stratford whatever (the Olympic Stadium is looking impressive) and out through Ilford and Romford. All in measured time, all at a decent pace. Up Harold Hill and in to Brentwood, out past Shenfield and on to Mountnessing, where we turned right and headed across country to Stock. Here we went, a little to his surprise, to see a glazing detail on an old people's home. He was entertained by phone call from the Babe, presently in Knoxville Tennessee, sufficiently not to mind my disquisition on untreated light American oak, and enjoyed the snaking roads past Stock's magnificent windmill, down to the Hanningfields, Bicknacre and in to Maldon where we stopped for refreshments. So far, so efficient. I put in a call to the Brightlingsea Ferry, and, re-assured, we went north east, after a bit of wibbly direction finding from yours truly, scorching along the B roads to East Mersea, and on to the island.
Farm machinery is on the move in Essex. Big Dutch stuff, as wide as a two lane road, preceded by pickups with flashing orange lights. We waited for them to pass, and went on, on to smaller roads, a smaller road still, a gravel path, and then grassland...
At this point one sensed a certain doubt in his mind. Grass gave way to shingle, and half a mile of shingle brought us to a spit of land projecting out in to the Colne estuary, on which we sat for an hour, letting the rain beat against our waterproofs.
The ferry hove in to view. I'll admit I didn't recognise it at first, thinking that it was a bit of motorised flotsam, or even jetsam, but, on closer inspection, two words came to mind. The first was 'bath'. And the second was 'tub'.
Twelve passengers, two crew and two bicycles took their place on this motorised bath tub, and it made its way across the mouth of the estuary. There was pitching. There was yawing. Above all there was the matter of scale. The bath tub and those in it, were, by comparison with the sea, a little on the teenytiny side. Fortunately ILB is not familiar with the Wreck of the Medusa, but I was sizing up my shipmates, and, seeing a collection of five abundantly fleshy Essex girls, had decided that supper would not be a problem.
We, and our bathtub survived. ILB and I carried our bikes across the sand spit of Clear Point and rode through and out of a vast holiday camp, before pushing north to Clapton, Frinton and Walton. Weighty names, but Frinton was as light as a feather, genteel beyond measure, a sort of temperance playground for the god-fearing holiday maker. Walton was almost as refined - a byzantine dome here, a Weymouth frontage there, and, in the middle of it all, Pink's Hairdressing Salon, formerly Liszt's Bakery, where the Babe's father had been sent after the death of his parents. I took my picture, and we got on the little train to Colchester....
Disaster. My card was 'declined'. ILB offered his own, doubtless thinking 'he takes me to an old people's home, strands me on a wet beach, tries to drown me in a bath tub, and now he wants me to pay for his railway fare'. But, hold hard. The machine wasn't having it 'you want me to do what, honey - you can kiss my candied EPOS ass!' it said, as ILB's card was spat out at quite a rate.
Our kindly train guard took pity on us, and allowed us to travel ticketless to Colchester. I called Barclays, who offered their assurance that all was well, as indeed it was when the machine on Colchester's finest railway platform produced a bunch of tenners so crisp they might have been starched by Carmelite nuns. And relax...on to a Liverpool Street train, and then by bike through Brixton, where I took him down Atlantic Road, home to fishy smells and Desmond's Hip City. We parted in West Dulwich, he to go another thirteen miles or more to Orpington, me to go over the hill to Streatham Hill, to further menace the Kid with promises of bin-liners if her room is not spotless tomorrow night.
A good day. The weather sort of held, we just about got home, and, most important of all, some lovely roads. Essex, the most underestimated of counties, didn't disappoint.
Auntie Helen
Ich bin Powerfrau!
- Location
- 47906 Kempen, Germany
Great write-up, Dell, as usual.
Sorry I couldn't meet up with you after all - our schedule for the day went a bit haywire with a surprise visit from my parents, and then taking out James's parents for a visit to Little Maplestead, one of the round churches in England.
http://www.fountain-international.org/img/maplesteadchurch.htm
It was a rather lovely church to visit, actually; they had a book of nice churches to visit in Essex and there are clearly several others worth a look locally. I hadn't realised either that the Mistley Towers were the remnants of a Robert Adam-built church. But now I do.
Anyway, glad you had fun experiencing the delights of Essex. I did think the ferry is pretty small when we used to sail past it... but it's all part of life's rich pageant.
Sorry I couldn't meet up with you after all - our schedule for the day went a bit haywire with a surprise visit from my parents, and then taking out James's parents for a visit to Little Maplestead, one of the round churches in England.
http://www.fountain-international.org/img/maplesteadchurch.htm
It was a rather lovely church to visit, actually; they had a book of nice churches to visit in Essex and there are clearly several others worth a look locally. I hadn't realised either that the Mistley Towers were the remnants of a Robert Adam-built church. But now I do.
Anyway, glad you had fun experiencing the delights of Essex. I did think the ferry is pretty small when we used to sail past it... but it's all part of life's rich pageant.
Simon,
Please tell me that this was just a jolly boys outing and not a recce for a potential 2010 FNRTttC. If it was the latter I shall remind myself nearer the time to bring my mountain bike. I would also plan on using this winter to build some sort of conversion for said bike to allow the traverse of estuarys and other associated waterways!!
Looking forward to this Friday's ride, hope you (and your bike) are ok after your coming together with the car.
Please tell me that this was just a jolly boys outing and not a recce for a potential 2010 FNRTttC. If it was the latter I shall remind myself nearer the time to bring my mountain bike. I would also plan on using this winter to build some sort of conversion for said bike to allow the traverse of estuarys and other associated waterways!!
Looking forward to this Friday's ride, hope you (and your bike) are ok after your coming together with the car.
How did you find the route out of London up to Colchester, this is very much the reverse of what I could ride sometime on Friday, with kind assistance into town from Andrij.
Is it fixed friendly? i.e no knee busting hills, also I would prefer to stay on tarmac where possible and avoid water!!
Is it fixed friendly? i.e no knee busting hills, also I would prefer to stay on tarmac where possible and avoid water!!
Auntie Helen
Ich bin Powerfrau!
- Location
- 47906 Kempen, Germany
Certainly young Dellzeqq picked a rather more suitable route to Colchester-area from London compared to the Mouseketeers who decided cycling along the A12 would do the trick!
mike e, I can provide you with a good route from Colchester to Maldon (which would join up with Dellzeqq's route, if you wish) as I've done this journey many times and have refined it to take quieter but still quick roads.
mike e, I can provide you with a good route from Colchester to Maldon (which would join up with Dellzeqq's route, if you wish) as I've done this journey many times and have refined it to take quieter but still quick roads.
